


What's That?

by OccasionalStorytelling



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Crushes, Fluff, Holding Hands, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 19:13:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5060674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OccasionalStorytelling/pseuds/OccasionalStorytelling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combferre is in love. And today he's going to make a move...</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's That?

“Today’s the day. F—k. F—k. This is stupid. F—k. Help. Why am I doing this? F—k. Oh shit, it’s him. Be cool, you got this, be cool.” Combferre sucked in a deep breath. Here came Courfeyrac, and

And oh, did Courfeyrac arrive. His hair did the thing. The thing that only happens in movies, when the love interest walks up and a gentle wind tousles their hair ever-so-slightly… It wasn’t even a special style. That’s what killed Combferre. Courfeyrac’s hair was always perfect. How much effort did he put into it? Oh! And there you go, you can see it now. He put little clips in, that’s how it’s staying out of his face. Combferre wanted to pluck out every clip one by one, and all the hair would fall gently into Courfeyrac’s face, and Combferre could brush it back behind his ear and

“—And I’m going to fight you,” Courfeyrac was saying. Combferre hoped it wasn't too obvious that he was watching the boy’s lips. Those lips. Mmph. Combferre suppressed a shiver of emotion. Courfeyrac was just always amazing, and he looked the part. Those lips. Combferre would run his knuckle along them, just to feel them and memorize their shape. This, of course, would be when the pair weren’t kissing. If they ever got together. Combferre wanted nothing so much as to get together with Courfeyrac, and

“—And what makes you say that?” Combferre smiled back. He was kidding, mainly. He knew exactly why Courfeyrac had threatened physical violence. Courfeyrac gave an incredulous glare that faded into a grin. Courfeyrac turned away to open his locker, and

And there. Right there. The collar of the school shirt (which was itself generally covered by a sweatshirt way too large for the small boy) the collar had slipped a little bit (courfeyrac always pretended to get upset when Combferre said he was small. “I’m taller than you,” Courfeyrac would say. Only by a quarter inch, Combferre would think. All he could manage out loud was a wide smile, unable to get over this ridiculous boy. “What’s so funny?” Courfeyrac would laugh. “Nothing,” Combferre would smile, and

And this collar had dipped just slightly below Courfeyrac’s collar bone. The sharp line of the boy’s pale skin was outlined in just a hint of shadow and the soft golden light of the morning. Combferre could see a freckle just on the edge. Combferre wanted to poke it. But god, this boy’s neck… it was a work of art. Combferre wanted to kick himself. It’s just a neck, he told himself. But everything about Courfeyrac was worth noticing, and it seemed that Combferre was going to try to notice it all. Courfeyrac was now detailing exactly how angered he had been to receive a pun regarding a certain main character’s death in some TV show. Combferre remembered. He had been so proud of that pun. The boys laughed over it again, now, in the soft morning and Combferre tried not to cry over how perfect everything was and how perfect Courfeyrac was and

And now they were walking to class together. Courfeyrac was going upstairs, but he was walking with Combferre anyway, and they were sitting outside Combferre’s class together and Courfeyrac was sitting with him while they waited for class to start and they were talking and 

And now a moment of silence in the conversation had arrived. Courfeyrac was tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “What’s that on your hand?” Combferre asked. His voice was concerned.

“What?” Courfeyrac twisted, frowning at his palm. Combferre grabbed the boy’s hand.

“Oh, it’s just me,” Combferre said.

And Courfeyrac smiled.

And they kind of just never stopped holding hands.

**Author's Note:**

> That pickup line is credited to somewhere on tumblr--I saw it, but I can't name the source. It is not mine, but if you search for it, it's not hard to find. I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
